The Font of Immortality
by Mary Had A Little Lamb
Summary: He's evil. He's not. He's evil. He's not. He's evil... Right now, I'm not even sure anymore.


**Disclaimer: I wish I were Brandon Mull, but I'm not... so none of this belongs to me.**

_**Prologue: Sphyrian Linx**_

His eyes were the colour of obsidian, and that allowed him to automatically win the 'strangest-eyes-I'd-ever-seen-award'. At the age of thirteen, I was extremely freaked out at this '_creatures'_ arrival, but then and again, there had been worst, like ancient demons bound with stygian material; dragons wrapped in chains; witches covered with knotted ropes - or so I had been told of. Grandfather had never allowed me to see any of his hair-raising new editions to our dungeons, so he could have told me that there was a laser-shooting centaur in the Quiet Box, and I would have to take his word for it.

But this 'new edition' was different. Grandfather not only allowed me to meet him, but even went one step further to introduce us.

"He'll be helping out here, Sandra, for goodness how long - I have no clue myself," Grandfather had told me. "So you'd better make some effort to get to know him well."

... Which was the reason why I was currently standing awkwardly at the centre of our pyramid-shaped mansion, holding a couple of Stingbub fruits in a tray - preparing to bond with our new helper by teaching him something interesting about our secret preserve.

"Sphyrian," Grandfather addressed the aloof teenager cordially. "This is my Granddaughter Sandra, and I do have some business to complete, so she will be your guide until I'm ready to take over."

And with that, Grandfather disappeared up the steps, leaving me alone to fend for myself against this creepy guy.

The boy's fancy eyes flickered to mine on cue. I averted my eyes quickly.

God, this was crazy awkward. How should I go about doing this? I had faced down vengeful imps, naughty fairies, and even a complaining harpy or two in my eight years of stay at this magical haven. What was this teenager in comparison to all this? Nothing, right? Maybe if I pretended he was just another playful satyre, or a silly fairy who'd just fought with another of her kind over a cup of milk, the job would be easier.

So I took on a condescending tone. Not the best route to take of course, but then and again, bear in mind that I was thirteen then.

"Welcome to the Living Mirage," I began. "The most dangerous preserve in the world. There are millions of ways to die here – like getting strewn to pieces by a harpy's talons, getting eaten for lunch by a river troll, or even getting stomped on by a steppe giant. So… If you ever feel like committing suicide – if Grandfather treats you badly or something, you know, you've got many options."

It was getting easier the more I talked. My mantra at the moment was: Just keep on talking, don't think, don't ever stop.

Sphyrian – or whatever his name was, raised his hand, effectively disallowing my mantra to continue. Who the hell did that these days anyway?

"Question?" I asked, pretending to be indifferent.

"No, but you're going a bit fast," He deadpanned in a strange accent. This was the first time I'd heard him speak, and mind you, I had already decided that I liked the river trolls more than him. And that was saying something, for river trolls were really nasty creatures.

"Alright," I dragged my words in an exaggerated way. "Where was I?"

His eyes narrowed at my rude display. "Some nonsense about committing suicide."

I glared daggers at him. "So you did get me."

"Barely," he supplied indifferently.

I hoped Grandfather would complete whatever business he was doing quickly, and replace me as tour guide of this very _unsuccessful_ tour. I swore I might just lose it and release some firedrakes on this infuriating boy any moment now if Grandfather didn't make it down quickly. Mind you, (insert) the sight wasn't going to be pretty.

"Grandfather will give you the more important bits of information about this place – because he knows more," I tried to be civil. "But I still know enough to answer any question you ask."

"Is that a challenge?" The boy smirked. I didn't see his question worthy of a reply for me, so I merely sent another glare in his direction. His smirk only widened at that, but extinguished at once when mumbled something about feeding him to the chimeras.

So he knew what a chimera was. Quite impressive.

"Actually," He looked serious now. "I do have a question."

"Finally," I muttered.

Sphyrian ignored me. "From my contextual knowledge, every preserve has a hidden artifact, am I right?"

My eyes widened slightly. How the hell could he have known that? Only a handful of people around the world knew of the hidden artifacts and their devastating power, and the majority included Caretakers and their families. And trust me, we _didn't_ go around publicizing stuff like that.

"Is there one here?" Sphyrian stopped beating around the bush.

My innards began melting with panic. I could reply outrightly that 'I don't know' – effectively causing me to lose the challenge, or I could pretend not to have heard him, and perhaps ask 'What was that you asked again?' to stall time until Grandfather arrived. Of course, the latter option was stupider, as it would consequentially raise a great deal of suspicion.

I didn't take either of the above options. I took the-

"Yes, no, I mean… Uh-"

-stupidest option.

He cast me a weird glance. "You're confusing yourself, girl."

"No," I confirmed hurriedly – perhaps a bit too hurriedly. "I mean N for NO."

"That's strange," He hid his disbelief with a silky, charming tone. "From what I heard, there is a vault located here, containing a certain hidden artifact – isn't there?"

I took a deep breath to keep myself from hyperventilating. "The question now is: Who the heck you did you hear this from?"

He was nonchalant. "Reliable source."

"_Outsider_," I snapped furiously. "Listen closely, I don't know who, or _what _for the matter, is supplying you with your information, but trust me, there are stuff you rather _not _know. So keep your nose out of stuff that doesn't concern you-"

"So it does _exist_," He inferred calmly. "I thought so. Though, what its hidden ability is – I have no clue. Care to enlighten me?"

"Did you just hear my long explanation about-!?"

"I tend to filter out non-important things," Sphyrian interrupted, seeing that I was not going to comply. The tray of stingbulb I had prepared earlier for demonstration suddenly became a source of inspiration for my raving mad mind. Though they looked pretty good in a tray, I knew where they would look ten times better.

Being thrown at Sphyrian - that's where.

Grandfather sauntered down the stairs right in the middle of our heated argument. The man had impeccable timing. Seeing that something was certainly ajar, Grandfather frowned and proceeded to investigate the matter.

"_He asked me about the hidden artifacts_," I accused at once. Sphyrian's eyes widened considerably upon hearing that. Obviously, for some unexplainable reason, he had clearly not wished for the question to be passed on to Grandfather.

Ha, watch me do it, boy.

Grandfather was certainly calm about this new revelation. Goodness, how could he be this _composed_? What if this boy found out about our hidden artifact, _the Font of Immortality_, and decided to use it for his own ambitious goals?

There would be widespread chaos, disorder. God forbid this ever happens.

"Well, Sandra, there is still no need to lose civility over that mere question," Grandfather chastised me. Seriously, so now it's my fault? He then turned to Sphyrian. "But Sandra is right, though. We cannot disclose certain information about this preserve, as is the universal rule that all Caretakers must abide by." Grandfather put a hand on each of our shoulders. "Let us all respect one another, aye?"

Grandfather then looked at the tray of untouched Stingbulbs on the table. He side-glanced me. "You haven't shown him yet?"

Still reeling with indignance, I shook my head wordlessly. Sphyrian had pissed me off too much, causing me momentarily to forget.

"Shall I do it, or…?" Grandfather looked at me expectantly. He knew I _wouldn't _let him take over this. I mean, since nine, I had always been in charge of presenting to the new preserve workers our finest specimen – the stingbulb, native to the Living Mirage. You couldn't find them anywhere but here, and they never failed to intrigue me. Sure, they scared me at first, with the ability to grow into a replica of any person that allowed them to obtain a tissue or blood sample in give or take ninety minutes. It didn't help that Grandpa had played an awful prank on me, by creating an exact replica of_ me_ even before he had explained to me what a Stingbulb was.

Imagine the horror of two of _you_ walking around the house. Bleh.

And suddenly, I had a brainwave. I was going to play that very same prank on Sphyrian – to scare the shit out of him for fun, laughter, peace and joy!

It's _payback_ time. These are the perks of being a Caretaker's granddaughter.


End file.
